


Like Riding a Bicycle

by ModernMyst



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Archangels, Family Issues, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 21:16:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11791647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ModernMyst/pseuds/ModernMyst
Summary: One of Lucifer's brothers pays him a visit, bringing a warning, his curiosity, and much for Lucifer to think about.





	Like Riding a Bicycle

**Author's Note:**

> In this piece, Michael is the eldest sibling, Lucifer is next oldest, and Amenadiel is one of the younger siblings. 
> 
> This fits in after episode 2.14 “Candy Morningstar” and before 2.16 “God Johnson” – after Candy has come and gone, but before encountering God Johnson.
> 
> Episode 2.13 prompted me to write my first fanfic in years. I wrote a half-dozen pieces during the three months we waited for “Candy Morningstar.” This was just to work out my frustrations with how “A Good Day to Die” ended, not necessarily to post anything. But I have enjoyed so many wonderful Lucifer fics on this site that I decided to share one of my own “What if” scenarios, and I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: The Lucifer characters and settings belong to their creators.

A beautiful Tuesday afternoon in Los Angeles saw a sudden and unprecedented spike in weather warnings, science announcements, and social media trends that kind of resembled 2012 Armageddon movie plots. A trickle became a torrent of explained phenomena rippling through the City of Angels, lasting exactly two hours.

An eerie electrical storm filled the air with a lightning dance from cloud to cloud. The USGS CalTech web site crashed with more seismic activity reports than ever before. Meteorologists announced new atmospheric phenomena. The folks at SETI at UC Berkeley got a little excited and Tweeted confirmation of radio telescope readings from advanced life in outer space.

And inside LUX nightclub, Maze picked up her cell phone from the bar and hit Lucifer’s icon on Face Time. When he appeared on the screen she demanded, “Are you coming down some time today?”

“It’s not like we’re open for business at this hour,” Lucifer complained, brows pulling together in irritation. “Whatever it is, can’t you handle it?”

Maze rolled her eyes. “You make it sound like I’m asking you to drive across town.” Lazy Devil. That fact annoyed her here where it hadn’t Below. Maybe because that domain was hers. She had lived it, breathed it, was it, and Hell was her. 

Up here, well. Her influence was limited. She was still sorting it all out. And showing a- _Maze_ -ing patience while doing it, too. She smiled at her own cleverness as she continued shelf inventory and the Face Time session simultaneously. 

“What’s so funny?” he demanded of the smile.

“Boy, are you more foul tempered than usual. It’s almost noon. What are you doing up there that takes all morning, anyway?”

“If you have to ask, Maze dear,” he snapped, “you’re doing something wrong.”

“Really. And here I didn’t think you did that anymore.”

There was a pause, followed by a tart, “It’s like riding a bicycle, Maze.”

“Which I would pay good money to see, by the way.” She snickered out loud at the image.

Lucifer gave an annoyed click of his tongue. “Is there a point to this continued interruption?”

“You might want to clear your schedule for the day. Something tells me you’re gonna be busy soon.”

“What are you going on about?”

“Are you expecting visitors? Of the decidedly non-mortal variety?” 

“Bloody Hell,” he exploded over the connection. “I thought she was supposed to be off at some bloody conference or other she couldn’t get out of? In Thailand, no less! I was looking forward to Mum being on a separate continent, even for just a week.”

Maze shook her head, making a ‘yap yap’ gesture with her hand (and making sure he could see it in the display), and shrugged. She didn’t really know who or what she was feeling, but it hadn’t struck her as dear old crazy Mommie Dearest. Figured, though. Lucifer didn’t really think he could get a vacation from her for that long, did he? “Just come down when you get tired of fawning over your wardrobe or counting hair product, or whatever metrosexual thing you’re doing up there – I don’t really want to know the details.” She hit End before he could snipe back.

**~666~**

If she had been antsy before, now Maze was practically beside herself. She didn’t know exactly what was going on, or who was nearby, but someone was. Some _thing_ was. Her defensive instinct had flared and she knew deep in her Hell-forged bones that it was getting closer. You didn’t do the job she’d done in Hell without maintaining control of your environment, and that included sensing bona-fide threats. Hell wasn’t a playground or a place with do-overs. She and Lucifer had run a tight ship, but they’d had their loose cannons to deal with. This felt like a return to old times and old threats as her body went on high alert.

With his first step inside the club, though, she knew who it was. She didn’t have to have met him before (and she hadn’t). She rounded the bar to go get Lucifer and to put some distance between herself and the new arrival. 

He stepped directly in her path.

He was tall, like Lucifer, but very broad-shouldered. Maze had to look up to see his face, and she fought the urge to back away. He might be God’s General, but she was Mazikeen, the _Devil’s_ General. She clenched her teeth and stayed put, making herself meet his eyes. Ice blue lasered back at her.

She hissed as he bared gleaming teeth. It wasn’t a smile. His blue eyes held a cold, dark silver in their depths than ran to gunmetal gray and the challenge there was unmistakable. 

“Stand down.” Lucifer was suddenly there with a calm command. He came forward, smoothly putting himself between his first-born Archangel brother and his fiercest and first-made Demon. “Leave us,” he told her.

She backed through the nearest doorway, wisely unwilling to turn her back on the powerful warrior Archangel, but she threw a hard glare at the newcomer and raised her fists to aim six-shooters in a parting gesture to his unimpressed stare before she disappeared. 

Lucifer couldn’t keep the smirk from his lips at her spirit, but it balanced with a deep wash of relief that she was safely out of the picture. He honestly didn’t know what to expect of his surprise guest, and angels and demons didn’t typically mix well, Amenadiel being the exception to the rule and all.

**~666~**

The very atmosphere charged and crackled around the two celestial figures as they regarded one another. The air seemed to flex with the sheer power carried within the newcomer. Some warriors were obscured by their battle armor; Michael _was_ his battle armor. He carried himself like a warship cutting through the mighty oceans, and he truly knew no boundaries. It was simply a stroke of good luck for humanity that the lead Archangel had never bothered himself with matters on their level. Lucifer sensed the strain on the mortal world unleashed during just this brief visit.

Michael’s renown on both the mortal plane and in Heaven, alike, fit the phrase “Bigger than life.” Oh how Lucifer had idolized his older brother. Had wanted to be like him, to _be_ him. He could admit that to himself now, in the privacy of his own thoughts of course, and he wasn’t exactly sure when that had happened. Sometime in the past six years, to be sure.

The two brothers faced one another for the first time in actual eons, both wary, taking measure of each other. Sizing one another up.

Lucifer finally found his voice with an effort and managed a passing attempt at a smug grin. “As I live and breathe.”

He was an imposing figure of Lucifer’s own height, but with shoulders so broad and muscles to thick and corded, he was a casting agent’s dream. His blonde hair was pulled back at the nape, and his skin was still as fair and perfect as it ever was. The celestial chainmail of his shirt made muted _clinks_ when he walked – it couldn’t be ideal for the element of surprise in battle, Lucifer mused – and gleaming arm bands of various metallurgical artisanship accentuated his musculature. His black boots were made from a rich, sturdy hide not found walking the Earth of today.

In fact, there was more gray and black about his appearance, considering he was often depicted with gold, and for that matter with a golden halo as well, a detail that always made Lucifer scoff when he came across it. A saint, Lucifer’s ass.

He moved with intent, deliberate and with a sense of purpose. His quiet, serious voice held the deep intonation and was of one used to being in charge – and heeded. His perfect diction and lack of accent put Lucifer in mind of a newscaster.

“Welcome to LUX, brother.”

“Brother,” Michael returned the greeting with a nod.

“I see you still spend most of your time in the corner of Heaven you use as a gymnasium.” Lucifer eyed the muscles. Amenadiel used to call him ‘Mr. Universe,’ long before human bodybuilding; before humanity, period. He’d say it half joking, half reverential.

Lucifer had come near to that sense of reverence, himself, for his older brother; he was just very good at concealing it. Still, he’d always felt a pinprick of jealousy that _Michael_ was the worshipped older brother amongst the younger set of siblings, not Lucifer.

“It’s really a shame you aren’t here during prime time club hours. The place really comes alive then, nonstop action and filled to capacity nightly.”

“You live here?” Michael asked, sounding skeptical.

“Yes. Well upstairs, actually. I’ve a penthouse apartment. This is the business,” Lucifer gestured proudly at the club.

“Maybe you’d like to start a place of your own?” he asked when Michael said nothing further. “There’s a niche market for every taste here, brother. I know! You could open an army surplus store – with a juice bar for that health nut vibe you still apparently have going on. You’ll fit right in to L.A., I assure you. Tell you what, I’ll keep them partying all night and you can revive them during the day, and outfit them to be good little soldiers. That way we play to our strengths. Now there’s a team in the making!”

He still got no response, and felt both exasperated and a little foolish. Why was he prattling on? His speculations were now racing. Why was his brother even here? _And why now?_ Did it have anything to do with the Detective? Had Father sent him? _That_ was a no-brainer, of course; but why?? 

He couldn’t abide the silence and added, “Come on, brother; not all my ideas go spectacularly bad. Oh, and if you do stay a while and happen to get a rental car, I wouldn’t recommend a compact.” When he got only more silent treatment, Lucifer sighed loudly to hide his growing nervousness. “If you insist on my carrying our entire conversation, it’s going to become very boring, very fast. For _me_.” 

“I see you still have but a passing acquaintance with the concept of patience,” Michael said, finally bringing his laser gaze back to Lucifer.

Lucifer rolled his eyes.

Then as if taking pity on his younger sibling’s efforts, the elder said, “Let’s sit privately.”

“Finally, down to business. Let’s go up to my humble residence, where I can ensure we won’t be disturbed.” 

Lucifer had forgotten, over the millennia since they’d last had contact, just how big his brother was. ‘Big brother,’ indeed, he now thought. The Archangel Michael stalked next to him, moving like he owned the place with that over-confident swagger he’d perfected eons ago.

“Feel free to jet on up there, if you wish,” Lucifer said lightly. “The rest of us use a lift—” 

There was a mighty _whoosh_ of wings, and Michael vanished. 

“Right,” Lucifer muttered, going for the elevator. “Still the showoff.”

**~666~**

He found his brother slowly circulating through the penthouse living space, taking in every detail. Out of habit Lucifer headed straight for the bar, where he selected a top notch whiskey. It was probably a wasted effort, but he poured a second glass as well.

Michael eyed the proffered glass with a raised brow. Lucifer clicked his tongue. “Oh, come on. Even Amenadiel deigned to share a drink with his fallen brother.” Quite a few since, too, Lucifer thought; especially of Lucifer’s best liquor.

“And see where it’s gotten him,” Michael said mildly. 

“Ooh, casting the first stone, eh? How very… fundamental of you, brother.” 

Michael gently swirled the alcohol, gazing into the amber depths before setting it aside.

Lucifer’s visitor took another, unhurried turn through the room, trailing a hand along the gleaming top of the piano, casting an eye briefly over his library collection, before crossing the room to the glass patio doors where he gazed out over the city. Lucifer waited patiently, aware that Michael could no sooner turn his back on a mystery or leave his curiosity unsated than could Lucifer – one trait the two brothers had always had in common.

Michael’s coat swirled about his thighs when he moved, promoting the sense of power and movement. His armor was custom made, befitting the eldest Archangel and leader of the Heavenly Army. His signature sword and shield were not in sight but wouldn’t be far from hand, Lucifer knew. All was carefully crafted to convey the Archangel’s image of strength, power.

Lucifer wore his own daily armor, always custom-made by the finest tailors and using the finest materials Earth had to offer. He knew the picture he cut, and had long ago perfected how to use it to advantage. A different kind of armor from his brother’s, yes, but tools of his trade nonetheless.

When he’d apparently seen enough, Michael selected the easy chair that faced the coffee table and sofa square on. He seated himself with a proud posture, as a king on his throne. Lucifer was certain the eldest _did_ have his eye on the grandest Monarchy of all, should Father ever actually decide to retire. _And we’ll all be wearing peacoats and goose-stepping in formation_ , he thought darkly.

But Lucifer marveled most at the fact Michael was actually _here_. The brothers were arguably the two most famous Archangels in all creation; quite possibly theirs was the most infamous feud in all history, of all time. And yet here they were in Lucifer’s home on Earth, occupying the same room. It was the first time in…well, since before the Fall.

It was surreal.

And that was something, coming from one celestial being about another.

Forcing a tight hospitable smile, Lucifer said, “To what do I owe the pleasure, brother? Or is this a ‘fact finding mission,’ as I believe you Military types call it?”

“I suppose there’s no point pretending this is a social call,” Michael said.

This brought an amused chuckle from Lucifer. “Not really, no. You either want something…” _Chloe_ flashed through his thoughts and sent a chill down his spine. “Or you’re bringing me something. And not the fun kind of gift, either, but an ultimatum perhaps?”

“Nothing so dramatic, brother. But I do come with information.”

“Which simply would not fit in a letter. Well,” Lucifer spread his arms, “by all means, then, let’s hear it. I’m on pins and needles now wondering just what kind of _‘information’_ warrants a personal visit from _you_. I must ask first,” he added, unable to help himself, “just how did you draw the ‘short celestial straw’? Don’t you intimidate like you used to? One look from you was always enough to send Amenadiel scrambling to hide in the clouds for hours.”

Both angels laughed at the memory, the spontaneity lightening the tension in the room for a few moments, before awkwardness reasserted itself and their respective guards went back up.

With a nod Michael said, “He was the nervous type, no doubt about that. Pity I won’t see him this trip.”

“Something tells me you planned it that way.”

“There wasn’t really a choice. Business is business.”

The blade was about to come down, no matter what Michael said. Well Lucifer wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of getting there first; he would meet this head on. “Let me help you cut to the chase of this ‘business’ of yours, then. Are you here about Father’s latest pet project? Hm? Did he send you down to check up on her? Make sure everything is hunky-dory, running according to plan? Well the secret’s out – no need for subtlety.” He affixed a tight smile to his face.

“Subtlety never worked with you, brother. I see that hasn’t changed.”

“Then you know if you have something to say to me, you need to just spit it out.”

“I couldn’t agree more, but you know how He loves His riddles.” Michael sighed and cast his eyes ceilingward. “I’m here on Father’s behalf. That’s partly true, at least.”

“Partly.”

For the first time Michael looked uncomfortable as he admitted: “I suppose I wanted to see for myself how things are here.”

“You mean with the Devil walking among humanity,” Lucifer guessed.

“Or my brother in his new home.”

Lucifer couldn’t find an answer to that.

Michael closed his eyes then for several long moments, seeming to look inward. The meaning dawned on Lucifer, and he had to force himself not to react to the wave of jealousy, outrage, and hatred that threatened to consume him. But it would only play into his brother’s theatrics, who made a blatant show for his younger brother of being so accustomed to communicating with their Father like this, it practically bored him to death.

Fine, Lucifer told himself. It was true, what humans said: ‘the more things changed, the more they stayed the same.’ Even over eons.

Michael soon nodded and opened his blue eyes, his gaze unflinching on Lucifer. “I wasn’t sent to play games, Samael, I assure you.”

Lucifer drew in a sharp breath. Hearing his name was a blow, spoken so casually as though nothing had changed. Everything had changed! But the other angel went on before he could speak.

“You already know that Father created Chloe Decker with you in mind. That much is true.”

_Finally, admission of His meddling._ Even if it was through a mouthpiece. Lucifer smiled with self-satisfaction, in spite of a sour burn in the pit of his stomach. He took a large mouthful of whiskey to try to drown the feeling.

“She was meant to cross your path eventually, but when that happened, she was to be… a ‘babysitter’ for you, of sorts.”

Lucifer sprayed whiskey through his nose. “A **_what_**!?”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Surprise,” he announced drolly.

The liquor burned inside Lucifer’s nostrils. He was so floored by his brother’s words, he wasn’t even bothered by the undignified mess he’d made of his favorite Dolce & Gabbana dress shirt. Thank, well, himself really: he’d chosen the deep purple today and the mess therefore didn’t show.

He suddenly leant forward and slammed his glass onto the coffee table. He withheld enough force not to shatter the crystal, but the remaining drink sloshed over the rim and across the table surface. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Alright, enough of your games! Your—Your condescending attitude, with Father on _celestial speed dial_ ,” he snarled. He dragged in a breath, lowered his volume and tried hard for a relaxed and confident pose without coming across as more of a poisoned mannequin. “Just… get on with it.”

“Very well. Think of this as a temporary, limited-run return to old times. You remember: when you and I could co-exist in a space without trying to destroy each other – or me stopping you from trying to wipe out Father’s experiments?”

Lucifer couldn’t suppress a bark of laughter. “I’m sure we had our moments, once or twice.”

“Once or twice.” Michael heaved a sigh. “Right. I must clarify that ‘babysitter’ is my term,” he admitted grudgingly. “Father thought you could use an ‘ally’ here,” he made air quotes, muscles flexing and rippling beneath flesh as he moved. “Your pet hell-spawn notwithstanding, of course. He wanted somebody on your side, but not simply because they wanted something from you in return.”

“And why would He think I need an ally? I didn’t move to Earth to wage war,” Lucifer chuckled, almost amused.

“You might not have a choice. That’s what I’m here to warn you.”

“Now who’s speaking in riddles?” Lucifer scowled. Then as the thought hit him, he blurted out, “Chloe. Is she in danger? Give me a straight answer on that, brother.” His warning was clear.

“There is danger to both of you, if the wrong ones learn.”

Lucifer narrowed his eyes at this, trying to figure it out. “’If the wrong ones learn.’ What is there to learn? It’s obviously no secret I’m no longer in Hell, and I haven’t exactly been living ‘under the radar,’ quite the opposite really.”

“Yes, no kidding,” Michael said dryly, his gaze flicking around the room. He focused back on Lucifer intently. “Look, I don’t have all the answers for you, only what I’m here to tell you. And I’m here because it needed to come from me.”

“An ally.” 

“Yes. You might even find yourself with a human friend, although that idea pushed the boundaries of ‘wildest imagination’ for those of us back home. You see, here was Father’s conundrum: How do you develop a true ally, perhaps even a friend, when apparently every human that converts oxygen is swayed by your…dubious carnal charms.” He sniffed to show his opinion on the subject.

“There’s nothing ‘dubious’ about my carnal attraction, dear brother.” The purred response came from Lucifer’s lips automatically, while his brain scrambled to interpret what Michael was telling him. 

“Ever on the defensive, with your questionable idea of ‘humor.’” Michael shook his head. “It makes sense, if you don’t overthink it. She had to be resistant to your ‘deepest desire’ parlor trick. Immune to it, in fact, so it wouldn’t sway her choices. Father’s precaution worked like a charm.”

“A _charm_ ,” Lucifer echoed, that one word reverberating through his skull, his smooth voice caressing the word dangerously, and his mind blocking the rest of what he’d just heard. “Yes.” He strove not to betray the bitterness, the deep cut at being proved right, let alone the devastation he’d been through because of it all. He kept the smug expression pasted on his face.

Michael clicked his tongue with impatience. “Not that kind of ‘charm.’ It wasn’t an attempt to… bewitch you. Or her. Oh, for Father’s sake.” 

“Tomato, tomahto,” Lucifer quipped. 

“Yes well I suggest you curb the jumping to conclusions – or at least put a pause on it – and hear me out.”

Lucifer made a sarcastic, inviting sweep of his arm in response.

“Think about it,” Michael entreated again. “You only cross paths when a murder brings the two of you together. And instead of swooning into your arms and bed, you’re no more significant to her than the street sweeper she questions outside the entrance to this... den of temptation and sin you call a ‘night club.’”

“Old news, brother. Are you not on wifi up in your holier-than-thou corner of the Silver City?”

The jibe as good as bounced off the other angel as he continued. “And that fact is not significant to you? You might recall her words, and I believe I quote, ‘ _Truth be told, I find you repulsive, like on a chemical level_.’”

Lucifer swallowed hard. “My, my, but you really have done your homework.” 

“At Father’s request. It’s not like I don’t have a backload of tasks to see to.” A faint bitterness had crept into his tone. “You wouldn’t believe how the Army has grown. But you surely remember His standard: leave ‘no stone unturned’ sums it up.” He couldn’t help a brief grin at that. “These humans do have the most apt phrasing, do they not?”

“Yes, well, getting back to laboratory experiments…” Lucifer flinched inwardly at his own choice of words, realizing he was referring to the Detective – Chloe – but he pushed on coldly, “Father certainly got the chemical ‘recipe’ right with her, didn’t He?”

“Mm. Too bad it went wrong.”

“It went— I’m sorry, what? What ‘went wrong’?”

“Well it’s hardly foolproof, is it, when you’re dealing with free will combined with human emotion. You of all of us should know that by now. Feelings can get quite messy.”

And Lucifer knew that was the nearest the Lead Archangel would likely ever come to criticizing or second guessing their Father’s actions and choices, but he could read between the lines. “You didn’t agree with what Father did,” he guessed, the truth there before Lucifer like a gift he couldn’t resist.

“I didn’t agree, at the time.” Michael’s gaze shifted away from Lucifer. “Either way, it doesn’t matter what I agree or disagree with – does it? It’s not of concern to me.”

_Struck a nerve._ Lucifer’s grin grew wider. This was becoming delightful. “I see. Tell me, did you argue the point? Did you offer your perspective, disagree with Him? Perhaps tell Him you thought He was wrong?”

He was suddenly enjoying this far too much, because surely whatever was going to drop as a result of this little unannounced visit was not going to prove pleasant for him. But this was just too good. He leaned forward conspiratorially, deep voice purring. “Brother. Does He even know you’re here now? No, wait, silly me; of course He knows, omniscience and all that. But are you here against His wishes?”

Michael’s calm exploded, his eyes flashing dangerous dark gray, like liquid metal. “Are you quite finished?”

But Lucifer couldn’t stop himself, voice growing progressively harder. He plowed on as his emotions darkened, and could feel the Hellfires burning behind his eyes, flickering hotly and desiring free rein. “Coerced, perhaps, to do an errand you don’t want to do, you don’t believe in, hm? Or no, simply _ordered_ to do so; and we both know you follow orders like the good soldier you are. You were always aces at following every rule, every command, and blindly at that.”

Michael launched himself from his chair to stalk around a bit, calming himself. He gazed out at the city for a long moment. When he turned back to where Lucifer waited him out, it was to regard him evenly with now cool, steady gray eyes. “As I’ve already said, I’m here to warn you! You might even be grateful. A stretch for you, I know.”

“Then I’ll play along. Warn me of what.”

“There are some who are decidedly… we’ll say unhappy with the results of Father’s actions.”

“Be more specific. Who is unhappy? And just because he created Chloe Decker?”

“Oh no, they were thrilled at first, because you see most Above saw her as your undoing. They believed that to be part of His Plan all along.”

Lucifer bristled and briefly closed his eyes as the spoken thought came so painfully close to what he, himself, had believed after he’d learned the circumstances of her birth. Had believed. But…that conviction, that certainty was no longer so certain. In all deep-down honesty, he now didn’t know what to believe.

Michael studied him carefully as he went on. “I and many others are no longer convinced that’s the direction He intended.”

Now it was Lucifer’s turn to gaze at his brother, trying to read him. “How disappointing for you.”

“Those who are disappointed are the ones who constitute the threat, brother.”

“So… then what ‘went wrong,’ as you say?”

Michael took a deep breath and allowed some of his vexation to show. “No one can say. She was raised in the Church, her parents never separated, they were living the,” he made air quotes again, “‘American Dream’ with their own home, money sufficient to pay the bills and then some. Acting lessons, music lessons, dancing lessons… as I believe the humans say, ‘you name it.’”

“None of which she particularly wanted,” Lucifer couldn’t help biting back.

Michael ignored it. “And now… I mean, she’s not even a believer!”

Lucifer nodded and smiled grimly. “Tell me about it. No matter how many times I’ve flat-out said… Well. Never mind that. The whole ‘hiding in plain sight’ strategy works, apparently. I’ve been employing it without meaning to for years now. Quite the irony.”

“We expected the opposite. In fact, most thought a taste of tragedy would nudge her more fully into her faith. I confess that some of us didn’t think He should even give her free will. Not to the full extent. But…” He shrugged, as if to say, ‘You know Father.’ He picked up the drink again and stared into its depths. “Why would He give her free will, only to have her go against the Plan,” he mused aloud.

“The Plan,” Lucifer scoffed.

“—has drawbacks. There are variables. I even tried to tell Him—” Michael broke off. “It doesn’t matter now. Obviously, none of us knows the Plan, however much we try to anticipate.”

Lucifer felt his immortal blood run cold. “Wait a minute. Tell me more about this ‘taste of tragedy,’ as you so lightly put it.” Suspicion darkened his tone.

“I assume you know something of her parents?”

“I know quite a lot, thank you. A far sight more than you, even with your… supposed sleuthing skills. The Detective and I have talked, and on all kinds of personal issues. We have shared much.” He realized he was practically boasting, trying perhaps to convince his brother.

The burning curiosity Michael’s eyes unnerved him; Lucifer would have been more at ease with continued sparring over every little thing. This felt like being under a microscope, and he resisted the unseemly urge to squirm. “Tell me what you meant, Michael. Although I can guess – her father’s death. What do you know of it?”

“Our Father works in ways that we can’t even begin to–”

“ _Don’t_ excuse Him. Did John Decker die merely to bolster her faith?” The temperature in the apartment had begun climbing. “Was it part of an _agenda_?” Because he hated the word Plan, had done for a very long time. “This- This ‘little tragedy,’ as you termed it, was murder! John Decker’s _murder_. Call it like it is! That’s when her faith _failed_ her, brother.” He noted he’d scored a hit with his very intentional word choice. “She didn’t _lose_ it, like one loses keys!”

“Samael.” The calmly spoken name seemed to still everything again. The temperature dropped back down several degrees. “You know the answer.”

And he did; that was the Hell of it.

“I’m discussing expectations. She wasn’t supposed to stop believing, for Father’s sake.”

“Well that’s what can happen when you take away something people love,” Lucifer snapped out. “We’ll see if He’s finally learned _that_ lesson.”

“Well it often has the opposite effect,” Michael said, bearing a stubborn streak to rival Lucifer’s.

“By who’s logic?? Do you even hear yourself? ‘Oh, I know, let’s piss that guy off by taking his favorite thing away, he’ll really like us, then!’”

The Archangel let out a sigh that sounded bone-weary.

Lucifer straightened his suit coat and smoothed down the front, as if sweeping up the pieces from his outburst.

Michael went on, more calmly, “Amenadiel may have delivered the blessing to the Deckers, but he was out of the loop and knew nothing of it beyond his job. He was a soldier who overstepped his authority by talking about it.”

Lucifer said, somewhat weakly, “He thought he was helping…”

“And you took what they told you as gospel! Did you even question him, or Mother, either one? At any point?”

“Were they wrong?!” Lucifer exploded. He’d meant it merely as a retort, but to his own horror, it came out more as a plea.

But instead of the expected derision, Michael’s look was one of almost pity, of compassion, and Lucifer found he was fast losing the energy to fight it.

“There was no script of events, no narrative to be followed. Father wanted to see how things played out when Chloe entered your life, to the best of my knowledge. You know, only too well, how He adheres to His own rule regarding humanity and free will. That has not changed.”

There was a heavy, considering silence, then Lucifer said, “I’m of course expected to just believe you on that.”

“Believe or not, that’s up to you. I’m just the messenger this trip.”

“You really didn’t know?”

“You know how effectively I lie.”

Michael didn’t, and for all intents and purposes _couldn’t_ , lie any more than could Lucifer. Yet another common point between them, Lucifer thought, and how was it all these shared things were coming to light? He found it disconcerting.

Michael said, “Let me put it another way: the betting pool in the Silver City didn’t have the two of you going beyond a passing acquaintance. When you got yourself named, what is it, ‘Civilian Consultant?’ And then you actually fulfilled the role? Oh Good Father! Chaos at the ‘Celestial water cooler,’ as it were. The former Archangel lands a _job_ , among the humans he once so despised. Then when you and she actually began to consider one another _friends_ …” He threw up his hands. “All of, well, you know _where_ broke loose and all bets were off. The entire betting sheet had to be revised.”

Lucifer was suspicious, yet relieved the tone had lightened a bit. “There really is a wager? I thought you were joking. Who all buys in?”

“Who doesn’t?” Michael shrugged. “Any excuse for a little celestial gambling is sufficient reason for most but you, brother, have proven by far the most popular subject of an ongoing betting pool!”

“A betting pool about me!” he sputtered, scandalized.

“You do make things more interesting. Oh, you’re quite the topic of the day, any day lately.” Michael shrugged expansively. “Once the Heavenly Host realized you now reside on Earth, players bought action on anything and everything. For example, when it became imminent Father Frank was to cross the Devil’s path, some bet on whether you would incinerate him on the spot.”

Lucifer looked horrified. Michael actually found this amusing.

“I would never have—!”

Michael sobered a little. “Yes, well, that’s something we’ve all been trying to come to grips with.”

Then a thought struck Lucifer. “Did YOU join in?”

The slight hesitation gave him his answer. “You DID!” Lucifer enjoyed a rich laugh at that, gleefully delighted. “Tell me, brother, what was YOUR wager?” He sat back, stretching his arms along the back of the sofa.

“I didn’t come all the way here to discuss my successes – or others’ losses,” Michael said archly.

Lucifer smirked. “Have some sore losers, did you?”

All signs of humor dropped from the elder brother. “You might say that. A few didn’t take it so well… It’s not really a laughing matter, brother. They’re not taking it lightly. They see a lot at stake.”

A pause drew out between them.

Lucifer finally asked, his tone quietly serious, “How ‘not lightly’ are we talking?”

“Don’t let your guard down.”

Lucifer swallowed. If Michael found something worth warning against, it truly wasn’t a joking matter. Michael didn’t do joking. “It’s someone close to you,” Lucifer guessed. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? In person, rather than sending someone else? One of your staff. A Commander with nothing better to do.”

When Michael said nothing, Lucifer said, “Alright, then just tell me who to look out for.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “If I had a list of names, I wouldn’t have to be here. I would know who to trust, and probably could have taken care of it already.”

_Probably._ He didn’t know who to trust?? How was that even possible? It seemed Lucifer really had missed out on many goings on. The entire admission was a bombshell. Lucifer thought about the – for lack of a better word – ‘energy field’ that had enfolded them once they were in the penthouse alone together. They were within a cocoon of complete privacy from all but The Almighty (as evidenced by the little tactical comms display earlier). Someone might know the Lead Archangel had come down, but had no way of knowing what had been discussed, or done. Still…

“They’ll draw conclusions,” he reminded his brother.

Michael gave a half shrug. “They always do.”

“So… there are enough then to constitute a ‘list’? All these ones who would see me cast back Down?” Lucifer licked his lips, his mouth suddenly very dry, and tried to make light of the question, failing miserably.

“It’s not just over _you!_ Ugh. So like you. You’re not the center of _every_ debate or conversation, believe it or not. Most, maybe, but not all. This has actually been a long time coming, for more reasons than I have time to go into now.” As he spoke, Michael’s voice revealed more hint of weariness, or burden, most uncharacteristic for him.

“Am I to take it that it’s no coincidence neither Amenadiel nor Mum is around for your little drop-in?” Lucifer was beginning to feel really rattled. “No, wait. Are Mum and Amenadiel actually _on_ this ‘list’? That’s why you made sure they aren’t here, isn’t it?”

“I stand by what I said, brother. Do not let your guard down. And… do your best to ensure the same for Chloe Decker. Be aware that if you up and leave again, it won’t do you any good and it will in fact render her unprotected and completely vulnerable. Amenadiel can’t help this time.”

It should have irked him to be preached to by ‘big brother,’ but Lucifer couldn’t deny the truth. It hadn’t helped anything when he ran to Vegas. Well, except for Candy; it did turn out that he could do a good turn for her, at least. And he put the fear of—well, of himself, thank you so much, into his mother. Knocked her off her game. _That_ was almost worth the price of admission. He very deliberately did not let himself consider the mess he had created between himself and Chloe.

Michael added, “You’re going to need to help each other, you and she, to get through this successfully.”

“They won’t get to her,” he promised darkly. They – whoever ‘they’ were – would get to her only through him. Over his dead body, as the very apt saying went. And, oh, there would be plenty of suffering to go around to all involved, if he had anything to say about it. “What kind of games are being played here? Why haven’t they made a move yet? What are they waiting for?”

Michael swept his arm grandly; the muted _clink_ sounds of celestial chainmail were at once melodious and ominous. He complained, “It’s like you were small again, when the questions just would not end. Why this, why that.” But the words were not spoken vehemently, were perhaps even wistful, if Lucifer wasn’t imagining it.

Lucifer began, tentative: “So, if Dad thinks His… that it all went wrong…” He couldn’t bear to put it further into words.

“Brother, I never said _He_ thought anything has gone wrong.”

The elder angel let that sink in before cutting into Lucifer’s reverie some moments later. “There is one point that vexes me still.” 

“Oh? Just one?”

Michael had gotten that look of internal debate, warring with himself over some detail or issue. Lucifer cocked his head and waited, curious. “It never occurred to you that with the Detective unaffected by you, your draw over these humans –you therefore had to actually work for it? Did you _really_ think Father would just _hand_ you such an opportunity? She was never meant to be a _gift_ , you idiot; you’re far too lazy to deserve something like _that_.”

“No,” Lucifer whispered. “No, you’re just fucking with me. Like all the rest.” His voice was hoarse, raw with meaning. He was breathing harder and his chest squeezed painfully tight, constricting his air and he wondered absently if this was what humans talked about when they gave the symptoms of a heart attack. It was an echo of that awful evening in the bar as the impact had hit him, dished out by his own mother and calculated for maximum hurt. “I mean it. If you’re fucking with me, Mike, I swear…” The nickname slipped out as his voice rasped.

“You were so sure you knew the truth, from the moment our Mother told you; you just accepted her word.”

“Not just hers. They even had–” 

“Proof?” Michael scoffed. “Come on, brother. You know a lie is all the more powerful, believable, when it’s paired with a truth. And she is very good at that.”

“She can be so damned convincing,” Lucifer breathed.

“She had time on her hands to work on her acting skills. Sadly, I’m not convinced it’s actually ‘an act.’ Does the term ‘sociopath’ mean anything to you? You may want to do a little research. Your good Doctor can assist, point you in the right direction. Mental illness did not originate with the human race, you know, although they’ve certainly turned out some memorable case studies. It’s simple, Sami: she’s made Father out to be the villain, all this time, and used her children in doing so. Have you even for a moment let yourself consider the ‘two sides to every story’ theory? There’s always ‘the other side.’” 

“Since you know so much, tell me why.”

“She wants to retaliate against Father, of course, no matter who she hurts or even destroys in the process… And she wants reinstated.”

That last word jolted Lucifer’s attention. “Reinstated,” he repeated numbly, because the implications were chilling.

“You know, upset the balance of power, reclaim all former abilities, to never be in a position where she could be cast off her throne again, and what was the other thing? Oh yes, and she wants to put the capital ‘H’ back in ‘ _Her_.’”

“The capital ‘H,’” Lucifer said slowly.

“That’s not universal but only as applies to _Herself_ , of course.”

“Oh course.”

“In other words, brother, she has an agenda. She saw a way to use your Detective to her own personal advantage. Just like she’s still using Amenadiel. If baby brother honestly thinks it’s otherwise…” Michael shook his head.

It was crystal clear to Lucifer where his older brother fell on the parental feud spectrum. But then, it had always been, hadn’t it? Michael was never one to mince words or play games – which was one reason Lucifer was actively suppressing a freak-out over all he’d just learned.

Lucifer realized he was beginning to question how accurately he remembered some situations, things said and done, all these many years later. Had everything before the Fall actually happened that way – as he remembered it? He certainly didn’t like second guessing himself, but he realized it was happening, and maybe with good reason.

Dr. Linda was going to have a very full plate, next time Lucifer met with her.

“I should have known better,” he said now. “Should have questioned her motives more thoroughly…”

“You believed her. So did Amenadiel. She so wanted to part you permanently from your Detective, she came within a hair’s breadth of ending her life more than once. When she learned of Chloe Decker’s miracle conception, she did a one-eighty and tried her hardest to push the two of you together.”

Lucifer again saw his mother light up when he said the Detective had kissed him. But it wasn’t just a parent overjoyed for their child’s good fortune; no, it had been a burning, almost prurient interest that had rung false to him even then. He felt ill as he acknowledged to himself that he had handed over to her his number one concern, his greatest fear: that he just didn’t know if it was _real_. What damage she had wrought with _that_ little piece of intelligence.

Then Amenadiel, humoring him ( _‘Do you think I’m boyfriend material?’_ ). Lucifer burned with embarrassment at being such an easy mark to the two of them (even more new emotional experiences, _thank you Dr. Linda_ ), and he closed his eyes, aware Michael was studying him. 

Michael resumed, because he couldn’t abandon this entire grueling thing, could he? “When she saw her chance, she turned things around for you so fast that within a matter of – what? Merely five Earth minutes? – of your walking into that establishment, with the oh-so-convenient aid of a single photograph in a world awash in them – how these humans love their images… she destroys you.” His voice was now soft, as though tasting the words. “She shattered you, dear brother. And she never once softened it or qualified it, said, ‘maybe,’ or ‘could be,’ did she?”

His eyes still closed, Lucifer shook his head ‘no.’ She hadn’t.

His voice calm and low, Michael continued, “She banked on the fact that you would become so undone in that moment, you wouldn’t question motive, or timing, or coincidence. That you wouldn’t challenge her words, and you did not.”

Lucifer’s eyes flew open and he searched his brother’s face, looking for a tease or trick and finding none. He took a deep, ragged breath and managed only, “She—” 

“ _She played on your **anger** , Samael!_” Michael hissed fiercely. The force of his own anger rattled the penthouse windows and balcony doors. “And you let her! You acted out of that anger with which you have cloaked yourself ever since your Fall. She knew this better than anyone; I know you can see that much.” 

What was happening? Lucifer desperately wanted to know. He was not used to _anyone_ getting a read on him besides the Doctor, but that had nothing on the raw power bubbling up in him right now.

Michael shifted in his chair, the movement projecting a shift in mood. His anger had died down to his normal tone. “My visit is almost concluded, so listen well, brother. Only one being in all of existence can grant you a second chance. Give some good hard consideration to whether you really believe that honor goes to our _Mother_.”

“It didn’t have to happen the way it did.” His words were barely audible, and in fact he hadn’t realized he was even speaking aloud until he had done so.

They sat in silence some minutes more. Finally Michael said, “You’ve rough seas ahead, brother.” 

Lucifer drew his confidence and dignity about him, recovering some of his smugness. “Newsflash, Brother Michael. It’s been a positive hurricane down here lately, Cat 5+.”

“Yes, well. Batten down for a tsunami. You have to get through it, but you have to get Chloe there as well. Together is the only way.”

He stood. Already a mist was stealing through the room and through Michael’s corporeal form, rendering him ghostlike. Likewise, his voice had begun to take on a distant quality, almost an echo.

On impulse Lucifer called out to the broad retreating back: “Did you agree with Father? That I should have her as my… ally?” He wouldn’t let himself call it otherwise.

“Did I agree with Him?” Michael turned back, drawing himself up to his full height. “I’m still in the running to win the pool. What does that tell you?” he asked dryly, but a smile tugged at his lips. He added with a note of disgust, “Odds are in Gabe’s favor, however.” 

“Gabriel? Really?”

Michael sighed. “Gabriel is your biggest fan, the self-proclaimed cheerleader for ‘ _Team DeckerStar_.’” He drew air quotes around the words and made a face that took Lucifer back with a nostalgic pang to their earliest days of play, what humans would categorize as grade school age, and he found himself thinking fondly of Trixie. 

“There’s even a _club_ if you can believe it. I’m not altogether sure what goes on or what ‘fics’ and ‘feels’ are all about, and with any mercy I’ll never have to know!” He gave a dramatic shudder. “I cannot believe I’ve even said the words and now I feel ridiculous for it, thank you _Brother_. He should borrow Cupid’s bow-and-arrow, should our Gabe. And wear a pink cape while he’s at it.”

And Lucifer started to laugh, the deepest and most satisfying laughter he’d enjoyed in a long while, as his brother grinned broadly. 

Michael turned again to go. Just before the smoke cleared Lucifer threw at him, “Love you too, Brother.” He wasn’t entirely sure it had even been heard but Lucifer somehow thought so, given the deafening thunder clap that crashed through the perfect L.A. clear afternoon sky. 

When the penthouse was clear of any trace of the dark gray swirling smoke – and, really, people called _Lucifer_ the Drama Queen?? – Lucifer got up and retrieved the whiskey bottle for a refill. “DeckerStar,” he said to himself, trying it out. He rather liked the sound of it. Of course it didn’t hurt that know-it-all _Michael_ thought it juvenile. Let him.

The past hour or so had been a roller coaster of ups and downs, accusations, revelations, being at each other’s throats, then laughing as shared memories surfaced… The whole thing had been utterly exhausting. Not to mention he now had the ominous warning to contend with.

Lucifer Morningstar carried his drink over to the balcony doors and stared out at the city beneath once-again clear blue skies, and thought. 

**~666~**


End file.
